Beauty From Pain
by BittersweetDeceit
Summary: In his eyesight, a surgeon and two more nurses strode into Kurt's room. His hazel orbs burned, and he felt a pang stab him in the chest, leaving fragments shining. A terrifying sob tore from his throat. WARNING: CHARACTER DEATH


**Warning: You may cry. Character death. Mentions of violence. Hospital workings.**

**Newly revised, re-edited.**

_Beauty From Pain_

Kurt walked slowly down the halls of McKinley. He had returned here a little over a month ago, with Blaine Anderson, his boyfriend of months he couldn't measure. He found his locker, opening it with a weak arm. He took out his peacoat and school bag, swinging both over his arms, flinching as the weight hit his bones. He turned his head to the right, staring desolately at the empty hallway around him, the silence sending eerie chills down his bare spine.

The torn clothes hung limply around his body, and he pulled his coat over his skin. The cold was bitter, sharp, and he numbly made his way over to the closest boys bathroom, looking over his shoulder in fear before entering.

He told himself the overhead florescent lights were spotlights.

The air was damp. He clutched at the sides of a pearl sink, staring into his reflection until it brought stinging tears to his eyes. His once perfectly styled hair was hanging flaccidly on the sides of his face, the individual strands wet from sweat. His cheeks were unnaturally pale, even more so than his regular colorless skin. Beads of perspiration traced his forehead, extending into his hairline. He forced myself to not look at the purple and black bruises on his neck.

Kurt took a deep breath in, the intake of air trembling, but the breath stuttered and caught in his throat. He bent his head down under the faucet, and watered his hair down, closing his eyes when red mixed with the pale water. He told himself head wounds bled the most. It wasn't severe.

He knew that the school would be locking up soon, as it was almost seven thirty. After drying his hair under the 'eco-friendly' hand dryer, he fumbled around for his phone. His hands clasped onto it, where it lay hidden in his right boot. The screen was cracked, and hesitantly he touched in his password, _courage_, calling the one person who he knew could help him the most. Perhaps he ought to dial 911, but the thoughts in his head were mixed, overlapping, and on instinct he called the number he memorized, the number that he deemed more important than a service dispatcher.

"Hey Kurt! I'm really glad you called actually; I miss the sound of your voice. Do you want to spend the night at my place tonight? If its okay with your dad, of course…" Blaine said cheerfully, after picking up. His mouth wanted to turn up in a smile, but he couldn't reach happiness at that point.

"Kurt, you there?" Blaine asked.

"C-can you come get me…?" he asked, voice low and hoarse. Kurt's chest stung from speaking. In comparison, his voice sounded like a whisper. All he's heard were his screams mingling with acidic laughter in the past - minutes, hours? Days?

"_Kurt?_ Where are you? What happened?" Blaine asked, his voice high pitched with worry and alarm. Kurt's body shook involuntarily, and he gripped his free arm around his body, trying to summon as much warmth as possible.

"McKinley, in the boys bathroom. The six hundred hallway," Kurt said, his head spinning. He sat down slowly, fingers trailing down the side of the sink. He curled in on himself, tugging the coat closer around his body.

"I'm in the car now, I'll be there in like…10 minutes," Blaine said, a car engine revving in the background. A hint of a smile grew on his lips.

"Cool." was all he said. He leaned his head back against the wall. His vision was swimming, and it went fuzzy for a few moments, before returning to normal. He tried to keep his mind clear of wandering thoughts, and he focused on the sound of his boyfriend's voice, a calming whisper in his ear from the phone.

"Are you still there?"

He groaned in spite of himself. Pain was starting to relieve the numbness, and his head felt like someone had branded him. Blaine had heard the soft reply, if a moan _was_ a reply, and a sharp intake of breath issued from the other end of the phone.

"Kurt, I'm here. I'm hanging up now, there's no signal in the hallways, but I'll be there in like two seconds," Blaine said hurriedly, his voice almost panting. He dropped the phone from his chilled fingers, the cold freezing them, and tried desperately to ignore the growing pain in his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut, opened them again slowly.

Idly, he wondered why he was such an embarrassment. He shouldn't have the right to call himself Blaine's boyfriend, he is worthless and Blaine deserves someone better. Someone who can stand up for himself, and not be so weak, so weak that anyone could throw him around.

What would Blaine say when Kurt tells him what happened? If he told him how he ended up here, hair matted with blood, bruises upon face and scratches tracing intricate patterns up his back, he would scream at me. He would yell, tell him how lacking he is, how pathetic he is. Kurt knew he would agree with him.

He heard a door swing shut, and he blinked a few times, clearing my vision. "Kurt? Are you there?" Blaine called out. He opened his mouth to tell him he was, but the only sound that came out was another hoarse groan.

Hurried footsteps grew closer and closer to where Kurt was sitting, and his eyes found Blaine's old Converse shoes. Kurt looked up slowly, eyes meeting Blaine's soft hazel ones. His eyes grew with tears, and he ran over to him, dropping next to Kurt, next to the sink, next to the trail of drops of blood.

"Oh, Kurt…" he said, tracing Kurt's face with his thumb. Kurt turned his head away, face contorting in shame, but Blaine gently moved his head to look him in the eyes. Blaine shrugged off his coat quickly, and he wrapped Kurt in the soft black cloth. He felt useless.

"What happened? Was it Karofsky?"

Kurt said nothing, and Blaine, upon realizing he was not going to get an answer, reached down, picking Kurt up in his arms. Involuntarily, Kurt gasped out in pain, the full impact finally hitting him. Blaine choked, and apologized to Kurt. He wondered why, he didn't do anything. As softly as he could, Blaine set Kurt down on his feet, hand around waist.

"We're going to the hospital," Blaine said. Kurt nodded; it was all he could do.

His eyes closed, and his shivers reduced to almost nothing. He took a deep breath, breathing in Blaine's scent. Kurt's heart rate was racing, though he wasn't in any sort of activity, and his head stopped hurting. He smiled softly, grateful for reduced pain.

"Kurt? Stay awake, ok?" Blaine said frantically, helping him into the passenger seat of his car, and Kurt wondered how the two got there so quickly.

"I think I'm fine," Kurt said drowsily, looking at Blaine through hooded eyes, "My head doesn't hurt." Blaine's eyes shifted and he sprinted to his side of the car, hopping in and starting the engine.

"Hey, stay awake. Are you tired?" Blaine asked him.

"A little…" Kurt admitted, closing his eyes briefly. Blaine shook his arm gently, and smiled weakly over to Kurt. "God, who knew getting beat up was so exhausting?"

Kurt felt Blaine's breath hitch.

He continued, "I'm really sorry, Blaine, but I don't think I can go over to your apartment today." Blaine shook his head frenetically.

"No, no, it's fine. I'll spend the night with you at the hospital. We can watch a whole bunch of movies. What movies do you want to watch?" he asked hurriedly, and Kurt closed his eyes, thinking.

"Rocky Horror, and the movie about that ship…" Kurt said, raising a shaky hand to his neck, feeling his increasing heart rate.

"Titanic? Yeah, we can watch that!" Blaine said, getting out of the car. Kurt looked around; the dusk fell upon the hospital parking lot, the streetlamps just beginning to flicker on. Blaine unbuckled his seatbelt, and lifted Kurt onto the ground once more. "Do you want me to carry you?"

"I, uh." Kurt closed his eyes. He felt his feet leaving the ground, and sturdy hands pressing at his sides. He let himself fall asleep.

He leaned his head against Blaine's shoulder, feeling his accelerated heart beat softly beneath his skin. "I'm sorry," he said.

"For what?" Blaine asked, as warm air hit Kurt's face. He heard people bustling around, and he knew they were safely inside the hospital.

"I didn't fight them off, that - that one guy, I forget his name - I didn't stand up for myself," Kurt explained, crinkling his eyebrows together. Blaine stiffened, but kept walking. "You deserve better than me, Blaine," he said.

A drop of water hit his face, but his arm felt heavy and he couldn't muster up the strength to wipe it away. "_You _deserve better than me, Kurt," Blaine retaliated, and Kurt shook his head. Blaine's lower lip trembled as he frantically spoke to a group of people. Kurt ignored the nurses' questions, Blaine could answer them; he was tired, and felt drowsiness kicking in.

"Hey?" Kurt asked, once he was fully assured he heard the nurse's footsteps die away. Blaine had told her his father's phone number, and Kurt wondered how he knew. Blaine held Kurt closer to his chest. Vision darkening, Kurt struggled to make out what was happening around him. A tip of a finger was placed at his wrist, and before he knew it, Blaine was calling for someone to help.

No longer were the arms around him, for the only thing holding him now was the flat stretcher. Blaine tried desperately to run along with the speed, but doctors and nurses were around him, obstructing his view of Blaine.

He tilted his head over and found Blaine's eyes. He was kneeling by the stretcher, holding Kurt's hand once again, and in some expanse of Kurt's mind he didn't know when Blaine had stopped.

Kurt could hardly feel his own heart anymore, and he struggled quietly to take a breath. The faces of the personnel rushing around him, probing him with needles and tapping him with unidentifiable instruments, were calm and steady. It became apparent that, if their expressions were this calm, he was going to be all right.

Blaine. Kurt looked back over to his beautiful face, smiling. "Blaine, I think everything is going to be fine."

Blaine nodded furiously, clutching Kurt's hand with more strength. A nurse pulled him away, and his hand fell away from Kurt's.

"I apologize, sir, but you're going to have to wait in the waiting room until we are done," the nurse said, pulling Blaine towards the door with obvious difficulty.

"No, I need to be-" he spoke urgently, tone rising and Kurt wondered what the fuss was about.

"Sir, please, just return to the waiting room."

Blaine shook his head again, his face flushed. "Kurt, please, he's my boyfriend, just let me be with him!"

From his position, Kurt stared at his boyfriend's face for an unmeasurable amount of time. Blaine, his Blaine. His beautiful eyes, his happy go-lucky personality, everything about him. He was the perfect guy, the perfect guy for Kurt.

"Sir-"

"Can I just...can I say one more thing to him?" Blaine asked, his voice croaky as he forced words towards the nurse. The nurse hesitated, wavering on her feet, before sighing and nodding. Blaine rushed past the ticking machines, past the faceless persons in meshes of white and blue, past the toppled family chairs.

"Do you remember where we met?" Blaine asked, his voice faltering. Kurt looked up through hazy eyes, saw the flickering image of Blaine, and smiled once more.

"Isn't something I'll ever forget," he said, breath catching in his throat. The white and blue colors moved quicker around the small room.

A lone tear ran it's track down Blaine's face, and he rested his forehead on their combined hands. "And you asked me for directions, wearing that misguided attempt at a Dalton uniform..." he spoke weakly, "You know, that really wasn't a shortcut. I wanted an excuse to hold your hand."

"I- I figured as much," Kurt stuttered, "You know, you're always going to be my teenage dream."

Kurt's lips shook as he forced those last words out of his mouth. His chest ached, his heart racing, his heart breaking. "I-I love you," he whispered.

Blaine sought for words, mouth gaping and twisting. "You- you're acting like you're dying."

Kurt said nothing in reply. Blaine grasped Kurt's hand firmly, feeling his heart rush when Kurt's squeezed back, meekly, but an insistent hold on his shoulder forced him back. A voice in his ear, telling him to go back to waiting room.

A fierce sob broke through Blaine. "Kurt, don't leave me!" he cried desperately. Vocal chords tight, Kurt was unable to say much more.

"Thank you for picking me to ask for directions, the first day we met. You are my world, and I love you," he said finally, face glistening and stature shaking.

"I love you more," Kurt responded, voice reaching Blaine and no one else.

He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly, staring into his Blaine's wet eyes until his own were closed.

Blaine was forced out of the room, thrashing against a firm hold and a soothing voice that did nothing but agitate him more. In his eyesight, a surgeon and two more nurses strode into Kurt's room. His hazel orbs burned, and he felt a pang stab him in the chest, leaving fragments shining.

He was sat down in a chair, and it was everything he had to simply let himself be handled. He felt control slipping away, he felt - he felt everything slip away.

* * *

_A week later, two funerals were held together.  
_


End file.
